Limited edition black chrome cassette + 16 page booklet, offset printed on Munken Lynx Rough, 100 gsm, black ink.
"Russell says that what he does isn't music and has nothing to do with music. Dave is of a similar mind in that he doesn't give a fuck. Maybe we could pike out like Eddie Varèse and call it 'organised sound'. But no. My first impression is that listening to these tracks entails undergoing some intense physical experience in real time. It's like being punctured with something, I suppose. That's cool. Maybe it doesn't possess the qualities that people (those annoying cunts) normally attribute to music. To qualify, you need what?... melody, harmony rhythm... is that all? Russell talks of 'mental floss' – audio dental floss for the mind (you pull it through one ear and out the other I suppose).

Anyway I know that these sounds work for me as some kind of very real and actual absolute music. Not music as some illusory, atmospheric reverie but as concrete, corporeal stuff that exists, crashing and hurtling in the same space/time as you; as riotous, tumultuous events. Not as an imagining or a 'recording' of some carefully considered and rendered composition, some contrived audio edifice. Perhaps you won’t find it uplifting. Perhaps it wont send you off with the pixies, imagining some vast florid pastorale or the twilight of the gods.

What's more likely is that it's a stream of data with the potential to do you real damage so… Crank that fucker up.* It always struck me as odd when people in the 80's/90's started talking about NOISE as a style/genre (hate that fucking word) or as something distinct from music. We'd all been struggling for years to break down that piddling dichotomy. Why can’t real solid sound that grabs you by the throat and slams you against the opposite wall qualify as music? What's the fucking problem?"